Ponderings of a Princess
by Star-of-Chaos
Summary: A series of drabbles for my favorite Runaway, Molly Hayes.
1. Beginning

AN: I own nothing and nobody portrayed here. During my time away from FF, I wrote a series of drabbles for the characters I was playing elsewhere. That site is gone, but I liked the writing enough that I want to keep some of it alive. These were done for Molly Hayes. (This is Star-speak for 'I'm halfway through the current chapter of another story and got stuck, so I'm distracting myself').

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 **Beginning**

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Just one step…

It wasn't Molly's first time on a plane; having wealthy parents gave a kid opportunities for travel that lots of other kids never received. Vacations at various places around the country have made Molly a seasoned traveler, but this was different. Once she took that step onto this plane everything would change. She would no longer be Molly Hayes, orphan and ward of the state of California. She would be Molly Hayes, student at the Xavier Institute. The public knew this school as an academy for gifted children, but most of them didn't know how gifted. Molly knew though, and she was looking forward to it. This was the first step into her new life; a life where she would learn and train and grow and come out as what she'd always wanted to be: a hero.

 _Welcome home, Princess Powerful._


	2. Flame

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 **Flame**

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Bright tongues creep across every available surface; hungry mouths that gobble and chew and devour, leaving nothing but smoke and ash in their wake. That is how they appeared to Molly anyway, the flames that raced across the building she was in. Always hungry, never satisfied until they'd eaten wood and brick and flesh and blood and every possible thing they could touch. Things like her parents, and her friends' parents. Trapped in this building, Molly could hear screams for a while, but now all was quiet, just the crunch and crackle of the flames as they ate everything in their path. Try as she might, Molly could not reach them, and so she was sure they would be food for the fire, failed in their hopes and goals; the fiery fate they'd wanted for the world now become their own. We all become food for something else.


	3. Prepared

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 **Prepared**

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It's quiet in the hideout this evening; this little place that Molly and her friends were calling 'home' for the moment. About the only sounds were the scratch of her pencil on paper as she drew, and the occasional flip of a page as her 'babysitter' for the evening read a book. At eleven, Molly was often left behind when the others went out on errands such as food shopping, and so one of them would stay behind to keep her company, but it might as well be babysitting. It made no sense to her. They'd trust her enough to bring along when taking down a bad guy, but not to the freakin' grocery store? That was completely messed up.

That's okay, this gives her more time to work on her drawings. Since she and her friends were crime fighters now, Molly decided they needed to wear something that showed what they were. Police wore uniforms, but that wasn't really good enough. They were better than that, they were heroes. No, not just heroes; super heroes. They weren't ordinary kids; each one of them was special in his or her own way (of course Molly considered herself extra special, could any of the others bench press a cement truck? Heck no!), so they needed uniforms that would show the world how awesome they were. And Molly planned to do the designs for them. She figured they'd be skeptical, but she'd do her own costume first and once they saw how awesome she looked, the others would want one too. And even if they still didn't want one, she'd still have hers, because Molly could see the future. She'd grow up tall and brave, experienced from having fought crime in her teen years and stronger than ever. She'd fight the bad guys, and be a hero; unlike her parents and those of her friends, who'd been special but were dumb enough to waste it on trying to raise demons. She'd be different. And her preparations would start now.


	4. Look

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 **Look**

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At first glance it seems like a joke, or a bad dream; but when you look again you have to confess to yourself that what you're seeing is real. Yes, those are your parents, and your friends' parents, all dressed up like something out of a bad horror movie; the kind where the bad guys are all gathered together to sacrifice a virgin for their ritual to raise a monster or a demon or the devil or whatever it's in the script for them to try to raise. The only thing is, this isn't a movie, and you don't know if the girl in the room with them was a virgin or not, but that's real blood coming out of her body, and your parents are among the ones who helped kill her. Now they're chanting in some language you can't understand, sounding like they're singing or praising something only you bet it isn't God because this doesn't seem like any church you've heard of.

So no, this isn't a movie. It isn't a nightmare. Your parents are murderers, and it looks like they're probably demon worshipers as well.

So what are you going to do about it?


	5. Mad

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 **Mad**

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The first time Molly met another mutant, he was committing a crime. She and her friends had heard the alarm go off at a nearby store while they were down the street getting supplies. She'd been begging them to get her favorite cereal when they heard the alarm. Cereal forgotten, supplies forgotten, they left the store and ran down the street. Two guys were exiting the store, one of them using some kind of ray shooting out of his eyes to knock people out of his way. Seeing this, it made Molly so _mad_. He was a mutant, like she was. They'd been given their gifts for a reason, to help people, not hurt them. He was being so _stupid_. It was people like him that gave mutants a bad name, made them have to hide and not be able to do all the things with their powers that Molly knew they could. Mutants were awesome, they were there to be heroes, and this guy was _ruining_ it.

Eyes glowing viciously, Molly curled her hands into fists and lunged forward. Somebody was about to have a very bad day.


	6. Winter

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 **Winter**

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They fell from the sky, big and fluffy, and Molly pressed her face against the window in delight to watch but the flakes just melted against the glass that wasn't cold enough to keep them intact. Snow. It was her first winter in New York, her first _real_ winter, with cold weather and snowstorms and everything. To a Los Angeles native, this was a big deal. Winter in L.A. wasn't much different than any other season. This though, this was a real winter. Snowball fights and snow forts and snowmen; it would all be hers. If she was lucky, she would even have a white Christmas. Molly ran out into the snow; it was the middle of the night and she'd forgotten to put her coat on in her excitement but she didn't care. The snow drifted down into her upturned face and she closed her eyes, letting the flakes fall on her face and melt as they touched her warm skin. It was cold but for some reason she didn't feel it; the cold just seemed to flow through her, the joy she felt seeming to provide some kind of buffer against the chill. The night was quiet and Molly felt like she had this whole new world to herself and she spun, dancing on the new snow in her slippers, marveling at her footprints there, the first ones to appear. Picking up a bit from the ground she tasted it, relishing the sharp cold wetness on her tongue. She'd be cold soon, or someone may even come out to investigate, but for now this bright fresh snow, her first real snow, was completely hers.

They fell from the sky, big and fluffy, and Molly pressed her face against the window in delight to watch but the flakes just melted against the glass that wasn't cold enough to keep them intact. Snow. It was her first winter in New York, her first real winter, with cold weather and snowstorms and everything. To a Los Angeles native, this was a big deal. Winter in L.A. wasn't much different than any other season. This though, this was a real winter. Snowball fights and snow forts and snowmen; it would all be hers. If she was lucky, she would even have a white Christmas. Molly ran out into the snow; it was the middle of the night and she'd forgotten to put her coat on in her excitement but she didn't care. The snow drifted down into her upturned face and she closed her eyes, letting the flakes fall on her face and melt as they touched her warm skin. It was cold but for some reason she didn't feel it; the cold just seemed to flow through her, the joy she felt seeming to provide some kind of buffer against the chill. The night was quiet and Molly felt like she had this whole new world to herself and she spun, dancing on the new snow in her slippers, marveling at her footprints there, the first ones to appear. Picking up a bit from the ground she tasted it, relishing the sharp cold wetness on her tongue. She'd be cold soon, or someone may even come out to investigate, but for now this bright fresh snow, her first real snow, was completely hers.


End file.
